


hope's a burden (or it sets you free)

by itsactuallycorrine



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drama, Established Clexa, F/M, Love Triangles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 20:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3461660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsactuallycorrine/pseuds/itsactuallycorrine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy knows better, but that doesn't stop him from falling in love with his roommate's girlfriend.</p><p><strong><em>NOTE:</em></strong> This is a <strong>Bellarke</strong> story, so apologies to anyone searching for Clexa fics. I only tagged it that way because this story features established Clexa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> filed under: things I said I would not do while I was working on my big bang fic...
> 
> (i just can't help myself sometimes)
> 
> title is from "No Cities to Love" by Sleater-Kinney

Bellamy sits on the couch, glaring at his cereal bowl, jaw flexing as he resists the urge to ground his molars into dust.

The thing is, he can  _hear_ them arguing in the other room, the open loft design of the apartment doing nothing to dampen the sound of low angry voices, and every protective bone in his body wants to rush in and stand up for Clarke.

Over the past seven months that he's lived here, though, he's learned enough about her to know that she wouldn't appreciate it. He can see her eyes flashing at him in his head, her mouth pursed in disapproval. It's a look he got  _very_ used to the first few weeks after he'd moved in.

He snorts to himself as he spoons up another bite, thinking that if someone had told him then that he'd be ass-over-elbows for Clarke Griffin within the year, he'd have laughed in their faces.

A door down the hallway opens and he pretends to be very interested in whatever rubbish he'd turned on the TV while he eats, but it's just Lincoln, heading out to work, so Bellamy tilts his head towards the disruption. "They're in rare form tonight," he tells his other roommate.

Lincoln nods, the slightest of movements, before he grabs his boots and sits down to lace them up. Bellamy, disappointed that Lincoln doesn't engage in the conversation about the fight, turns back to the TV with a sigh that almost drowns out Lincoln saying quietly, "Don't get involved."

Bellamy scowls. "I wasn't going to," he says, wincing at the petulant quality in his voice, but he can't help adding with a casual shrug, "If they didn't want us to get involved, they should have it out at Clarke's, not here."

Lincoln stares at him, face frustratingly impassive, and it makes Bellamy defensive, hunching his shoulders around his ears and huffing out a breath. "Fine. I'll stay out of it."

He ignores Lincoln's approving nod as he walks out, punching up the volume on the TV more so he really can't hear what's going on. 

It doesn't stop him from thinking about it, though. 

It's far from the first time that he's heard Clarke and Lexa fight - lately, it seems to be their main form of communication - and yet every time he catches them at it, he's torn by two opposing thoughts.

The first being, maybe this would be it -  _THE FIGHT_  that ends their relationship for good - possibly giving Bellamy the opening he needs with Clarke.

The second being, maybe this would be the fight that ends their relationship, taking away Bellamy's only reason for interacting with Clarke.

He doesn't know which prospect is more terrifying.

He jerks his head up when another door slams down the hall and doesn't even pretend to look away as Lexa storms into the common area, face set in stone as she grabs her keys and walks out without a word, slamming the main door as well.

Clarke doesn't follow, not immediately, so Bellamy gets up and rinses his bowl, gets the coffee pot ready for the morning, fusses around the kitchen, pretends he's not waiting for her.

He's doing such a good job, in fact, that he jumps when he hears her voice behind him. "That's the third time you've straightened that row of cans. You do it again and I'm going to give your name to the psych major down the hall."

He jerks around to see her standing in the doorway, the smirk on her lips at odds with the resigned sadness in her blue eyes. He wants to ask her how she is, what happened, if she wants to talk, but he can see that her wall is up and it would be a fruitless endeavor. So instead he matches her smirk, leaning back against the counter, folding his arms. "Oh, she already knows my name," he says, raising his brow at her, fighting a grin as she shakes her head in disgust.

"Of course she does. Jesus, Bellamy." It's a familiar refrain, but he can see a genuine smile peeking through on her lips as she rolls her eyes. "Is there a woman in this building you  _haven't_ slept with?"

 _You_ , he thinks, but can't allow himself to say that out loud, so says instead, "Oh, I'm sure there are one or two. I can't crack Mrs. Egebrecht in 1C for anything." 

She lets out a quiet laugh at the thought of the 80-something German woman who was always trying to foist off snickerdoodles to the younger occupants of the building. "And here I thought you were some amazing ladies man. Everything I know is a lie." She widens her eyes in mock horror, making him snort.

The funny thing is, Bellamy considers as he grins at her, although once that label might've been something he strove for, he hasn't been with anyone in months. In fact, the only empirical proof that Clarke has of his supposed reputation was a run-in with one of his one-night-stands about two months after Bellamy moved into the apartment.

A one night stand that Bellamy had really only brought home because of Clarke to begin with, because of the feelings he'd started having for her and his jealousy over Lexa's relationship with her. 

A one night stand that Bellamy had shared with someone Clarke knew, someone Clarke had a past with, because of course she did. 

That morning, when Clarke and the girl had come face to face, Bellamy had been feeling a little smug. Even if he never had a shot with Clarke, at least now she knew what she was missing out on, because the girl Bellamy had brought home had  _not_ been quiet. That smug feeling was fleeting, though, as Clarke's mouth dropped open and she ground out a shocked, " _Raven?!_ "

It turned out that Bellamy had slept with the girlfriend of the boy that had broken Clarke's heart while she was a freshman and he'd had to sit there awkwardly as the two of them caught up with each other in his living room.

The only good things to come out of that entire experience had been Clarke forging a friendship with Raven and Bellamy learning that Clarke was bisexual.

He's pulled back to the present as Clarke slides her shoes on. "Leaving already?" he asks, trying not to sound as disappointed as he feels.

She glances up and nods. "It's probably better if I'm not here when she gets back. Things got pretty intense."

He rolls his eyes at that. "Does she ever operate on any other frequency?" 

Clarke smiles a little and shakes her head at him. She's well aware that there's little loyalty between Bellamy and Lexa; they're just roommates, not friends, and both of them prefer it that way. "Bellamy," Clarke says, warning in her tone.

"Yeah, yeah." He shrugs and starts to brush past her, pausing when he reaches her side. "You gonna be okay?" he asks quietly, wanting to touch her shoulder, her arm, letting his hand fist impotently at his side instead.

She peers up at him through her lashes, then nods. "I'm always okay," she answers with a stiff smile and does what he's not brave enough to, reaches out to touch his elbow. Just once, just a brush of fingertips, but it sets his pulse racing. "I'll see you."

"See you," he says, the sound swallowed up by the closing of the door behind her.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided that this will be 7 chapters - quick & hurty.
> 
> Thanks for all the feedback so far!

The days following the fight fall into a pattern Bellamy has memorized: Clarke stays scarce, Lexa walks around in a shitty mood and picks fights with all of them, Bellamy takes her up on it because he’s also in a shitty mood, Lincoln tries to play mediator, and Anya (during the rare times she’s actually home instead of at work or class) tells them all to shut the fuck up so she can sleep.

And then one afternoon Bellamy comes home and Clarke is there and everything is back to normal.

"Hey," he calls out, mentally rolling his eyes at how delighted he sounds, dropping his keys in the middle of the table in a way that makes Lincoln scowl at him. 

Clarke looks up from where she's sitting on the couch, nose buried in a textbook and smiles, just a small one but it never fails to make his breath catch. "Hey, Bellamy. What's new?"

So he catches her up with the latest stories about the morons he works with at The Dropship, the bar a few blocks over, and she tells him about her art classes, and before he knows it, Lexa's walking in because it's nearly 8 PM and she's just finished her study group.

"Bellamy," Lexa acknowledges without emotion, which is downright warm after how she's been treating him over the past few days. Her eyes soften a bit as she turns to her girlfriend and nods her head towards the hall, walking that way without waiting to see if Clarke will follow.

He turns back just in time to see Clarke smooth out the furrow between her brows. She catches his eye and sighs, embarrassed that he caught that slight sign of dissent. "I should go, too. I have an early class tomorrow." Her voice is reluctant, though, and she takes her time straightening up her notes.

"That's the fun of being a senior, isn't it? Playing hooky, knowing it won't really count?" 

Clarke tries to hide her smile, but he can see the corners of her lips turning up against her will. She shakes her head, blonde strands falling out of the loose knot on top of her head to wave around her face, and ignores him. "Goodnight, Bellamy," she says instead, taking her books and notes into Lexa's bedroom with her.

He sits on the couch in silence for a while, telling himself he's pathetic for smiling when the woman he loves is still in a relationship with someone else.

It doesn't help.

* * *

On his day off, he's sitting on the couch in nothing but his boxers with a beer bottle balanced on his stomach when she comes storming in, because she apparently has a key now.

"Uhhhhh," he says intelligently, but she doesn't spare him a glance before she swoops in to steal the bottle from his hand, chugging at least half of it in one go. 

After she swallows, she looks at the amber bottle then at him. "Do you have more of these?" He just nods, which she answers with one of her own, climbing over his legs where he has them propped on the coffee table to drop onto the couch beside him. "You should probably go get them."

"I don't take orders from you," he replies, but it's without heat. She sends him a pitying look that says, " _Neither one of us believes that,_ " so he stands up with a groan, making a show of stretching, like he's not going to do exactly what she wants. Tilting his head back and closing his eyes, he pops his neck, looking back at her just in time to see her look away from his torso and stare at the beer in fascination. He smirks to himself, feeling the low tug of attraction in his gut that has been present since the day he met her. _  
_

"Put some clothes on," he hears her mutter as he walks into the kitchen, but he just huffs out a laugh.

Coming back into the room, he sets the remainder of the six pack on the table, twisting the cap off one bottle for himself. "Oh, no, princess. This is  _my_ day off and everyone here knows that on my day off, I don't get dressed unless I have plans." He toasts her with the bottle. Before taking a pull, he leers at her and says, "You're lucky I don't make you strip down for infringing on my Underwear Wednesday."

He's grinning when she slides him a narrow look and has just enough time to see something in her eyes sharpen, a little gleam of challenge, before she's setting her beer down.

In one quick move, she strips her shirt off, leaving her clad in a black bra that looks like it's seen better days but might be the single sexiest piece of clothing he's ever seen. Or maybe that's because it's holding the most exquisite set of breasts in all of existence.

Bellamy slides a hand down and pinches his thigh -  _hard_ \- to make sure he's not dreaming.

She quirks an eyebrow at him in satisfaction and his mouth goes dry, so he takes another drink, looking forward with a nod.

"I guess you can stay then," he manages, wincing a bit at how rough his voice sounds.

Without saying a word, she settles back into the couch, seeming lighter than she'd been when she walked in.

* * *

They're halfway through a second six pack when the door swings open.

"Uh-oh," Clarke says tipsily, "Mom's home and she caught us."

Subconsciously Bellamy is aware of how bad this looks - him in just his boxers, Clarke now stripped down to her bra and matching boy shorts, neither of them feeling any pain - but he can't bring himself to do anything than laugh at the horrified expression on Lexa's face.

She wipes it clean soon enough and sends Clarke a stony stare. "May I speak with you in the other room?" she asks, all politeness, but even Bellamy hears the underlying order in it.

Clarke puts on a playful pout. "But I'm having fun," she whines, climbing a little unsteadily to her feet and approaching her girlfriend. She gives the hem of Lexa's shirt a little tug. "You could join us." Her voice, always on the husky side, has a sexy little rasp to it that makes Bellamy shift in his seat.

An action that doesn't go unnoticed by Lexa if the look askance she gives him is any indication. Before he has a chance to even read her expression, she cups the back of Clarke's neck, pulling her in for a heated kiss, one that has Clarke making this little needy noise in the back of her throat.

Bellamy sees the gesture for exactly what Lexa intended it to be - a claim - and looks away, swallowing his pain along with the dregs of his beer, before setting the empty down with a little more force than necessary.

The sound of the glass bottle hitting the surface of the coffee table seems to remind Clarke that he's there and she pulls back, sending him a sheepish smile before she gathers her clothes and follows Lexa back to her bedroom.

As soon as the door closes behind the two women, Bellamy rubs a weary hand over his face. He'd let himself forget that she isn't here for him, that she is with someone else. 

He thinks about grabbing another beer but a low moan from down the hall has him cursing and throwing clothes on.

He needs more alcohol than what's available in the apartment and the walk to the bar will at least give him time to clear his head.

* * *

When he slinks back in the next morning with a pounding headache, she's there, sitting at the table. Instead of his normal pleasure, Bellamy scowls, casting a dark glance around the apartment and finding that no one else appears to be home.

She looks up from her English muffin with a slight smile, her cheeks going pink in a way that he does  _not_ find charming  _at all,_ and starts to say something, but Bellamy cuts her off.

"Don't you have your own apartment?" he barks at her, choking back the rising guilt as her expression melts into a frown. But he continues. "Every damn time I come home now, you're here."

He can see that she's struggling to stay civil. Her voice is hard, though, when she says, "Lexa told me it wasn't a problem."

"Yeah," he says with a snort, "I'm sure she did. She gave you a fucking key, too, didn't she? Do you know she wouldn't even let me give my sister - who lives on the other fucking side of the country - a copy in case of emergencies?" He opens the cabinet over the coffee maker and fights with the stupid child-proof lid on the aspirin.

"Bellamy, what's going on?" she says, voice quiet. "I thought we were friends." She clears her throat and places her hand flat on his back, making him jump and turn, since he didn't even hear her move. Taking the bottle from his hand, she opens it and gives it back, looking up at him. "That's part of the reason I like to be here. Raven hasn't been home a lot so my apartment is a little empty."

He turns away, shaking two capsules out and swallowing them dry. He wants to stay mad, to push her away, to do anything other than what he knows he's going to do next. Which is to look back at her, her blue eyes wide and entreating, and roll over. "Yeah, sorry," he says gruffly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hangover. I, uh, I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I don't mind that you're here."

She watches him closely for another beat and then nods and returns to her seat, nudging her plate with the other half of the muffin at him, with a small smile. "Hangover, huh? Looks like a walk of shame, too. What exactly did you get up to after I left you?"

He pulls up another chair and takes the food she's offering and smiles feebly over a bite, shrugging. "I just went out with some friends." And went home with some random girl in an effort to get Clarke out of his head. It wasn't his proudest moment.

Clarke stares at him suspiciously, but when he doesn't continue, she huffs out a laugh. "Fine, don't tell me. But just know that I know. You're terrible at keeping secrets," she says with a smug grin.

Bellamy shrugs again and finishes off the English muffin, wondering which one of them is fooling themselves.


	3. Chapter 3

Bellamy slides his wallet into his back pocket and looks for his phone just as the front door opens. He's not even surprised to see that it's Clarke, but he  _is_  surprised to note that she's crying. "Hey, everything okay?" he asks, pitching his voice low so Lincoln's post-class, pre-work nap won't be disturbed.

Clarke looks up at him and scrubs her hands over her face furiously as if to erase all evidence of tears, but it's clear in her red eyes and trembling chin and the pink tip of her nose. "Bellamy, hey. I, uh, I know Lexa's not here, but... Is it okay if I hide out?"

He's a little taken aback by her request, considering how often he's come home to find her in their apartment alone, but he answers nonetheless. "It's fine." She nods, more to herself, and takes a few shuffling steps in, giving him a sad smile as she passes him on her way to the couch. He turns to follow her a bit, but doesn't sit beside her. "You and Raven fight?" he can't help but ask. He feels helpless, which is fairly ridiculous considering how often he's seen Octavia cry, but with Clarke, it's different. He's never seen this side of her and hasn't built up an immunity like he has with his sister.

She shakes her head, biting her bottom lip for a second, before she blurts out, "It's my mom. She's in town and we got into it and now I'm hiding from her."

"Oh." Bellamy rubs the back of his neck, wanting to roll his eyes at his own emotional stupidity, but settles on lamely clearing his throat instead. "Uh, well, do you need anything while you wait for Lexa? A drink or...?"

Clarke gives him a weird look, then stares at her hands folded in her lap as a blush tinges her cheeks pink. "Actually, I knew this was your night off, so I thought maybe I could talk to you." 

And Bellamy can't do anything other than stare at her and say again, "Oh."

"Never mind," she says with a shake of her head, standing and avoiding his gaze. "I'm sorry; this was a bad idea. You don't care about my problems."

"No!" he shouts, then winces at the volume. Stepping towards her, he says in a lower voice, "Clarke, it's not that, it's just..." He blows out a breath as she finally looks back up at him. "I have plans for tonight." She looks so crestfallen that he's quick to assure her, "I can cancel. It's not a big deal."

She tilts her head to the side in consideration, sliding her eyes over his dressier clothes, and smiles a bit, but it's wry instead of amused. "I guess if I asked to tag along, that might not go over too well, huh? Hot date?"

He laughs, which sounds nervous even to his own ears, and shrugs. "Well, it's a date anyway."

"I don't think I've ever heard about you going on a date in the entire time I've known you." Something flickers over her face, but it's gone before he can read it. "It must be pretty serious."

"Serious?!" he says in disbelief, shaking his head. "No. No. I'm just, you know, trying out something new." He swallows and aims for casual. "But if you need me, I can call right now and-"

"Absolutely not!" She's grinning a bit now, although her eyes are still shuttered. The contradiction sends a wave of unease through his stomach. "You're going to go on your date."

"Date?" comes a grumbling voice from the hallway and they both turn to see Lincoln standing there, rubbing the sleep off his face, but still smirking at Bellamy. "Is this the same girl from the other morning when you went to the bar? Wait until I tell Octavia."

"Ah-ha!" Clarke seizes on that, punching him in the arm. "I  _knew_ you were doing a walk of shame that morning."

Bellamy scowls and rubs where she hit him. "Okay, number one, you," he says, pointing at Clarke, "know nothing. And you," he moves on to Lincoln, while Clarke sputters at him, "stop talking to my sister, especially about my personal life."

Lincoln shrugs him off, as he usually does when Bellamy comments on the strange long-distance friendship that has blossomed between his roommate and his sister, and goes to start a pot of coffee, leaving Bellamy alone with Clarke once again.

He looks down at her. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay?"

She stares into his eyes for a long moment, but eventually lets the corners of her lips tip upwards. "No, you go have fun. I can always talk to Lincoln. Right, Lincoln?" she calls and gets an assenting grunt from the kitchen, turning her smile genuine. "I'll be fine."

Bellamy nods reluctantly and grabs his phone on his way out, turning back at the door just in time to see the solemn stare that Clarke is sending his way.

She forces a smile when he catches her eye and he returns it, letting it drop from his face the instant the door closes behind him.

* * *

When Bellamy returns later that night, he's surprised to see Clarke sitting in almost the exact same spot on the couch, legs crossed before her as she concentrates on her sketchpad.

"Hey," he calls, looking around the common area of the apartment. "Lexa's not back yet?"

Clarke shakes her head, blonde hair falling over her shoulders into her face, which she pushes back with impatient hands, not taking her gaze off her drawing. "She went out for drinks," she answers distractedly. She makes a few more strokes with her pencil, then pulls back with a satisfied sigh before looking up at him. "Oh, Bellamy. Hi."

He grins a bit, trying not to find her adorable (and failing miserably). "Hi." 

"You're back kind of early," she says, looking at her watch, then turns to him with a commiserating smile. "Things not go well?"

Bellamy wonders if the thread of hope he hears in her voice is just his imagination, but shakes it off. "No, things were fine. In fact, we're going out again this weekend." Clarke's expression doesn't change, but she blinks once, then turns back to her sketchbook, carefully closes it, and sets it aside. Bellamy can feel the tension thick in the air, so he clears his throat. "Did you and Lincoln have a good talk?"

She shrugs a little and tilts her head his way without looking at him, trying to align her book so it's parallel with the coffee table's edges. "It was okay, although kind of awkward since we've never been close."

He can't help but feel a little proud of the fact that she considers herself close to him, although he tries to suppress the grin tugging at his mouth and nods instead. He looks down at her, her shoulders still lined with tension, her brow furrowed, and offers, "I'm free now if you want to rehash it."

That finally gets her to look at him, lips parted just a breath, showing her surprise. Then her face softens, eyes going warm, as she says, "I'd like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next few chapters are going to be a little longer, so I may not have a new one posted every day, but I hope to have this wrapped up before part 2 of the season finale airs


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay on this chapter - I was not expecting it to take 4 days to write/post it. I think my optimistic timetable of having this done by part 2 of the finale will have to be extended.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for the feedback, comments, kudos, & reblogs!

Every few months, there’s one weekend where all four roommates’ schedules align perfectly and they’re all free. In a tradition predating Bellamy’s arrival in the apartment, the Friday night of this weekend is celebrated with a party. No exceptions, no excuses.

Of course, Bellamy tries to make excuses. Every. Time.

"No," Anya says stubbornly now (as if she would do anything any other way), "the tradition stands. When Tristan was here-"

"There was world peace and no one went hungry and the Dodgers won the World Series," Bellamy snarks back, rolling his eyes. "But Tristan's not here anymore. So why should his stupid tradition stick around?"

She stares him down, face an implacable mask. "Because."

Bellamy snorts. "Very compelling argument. Can't we at least vote on it?"

Lincoln sighs. "Bellamy, we vote every time it comes up and you always lose. Why do you insist on voting?"

Bellamy glares at him, the traitor, and says through his teeth, "We vote." 

He loses. Of course.

* * *

Bellamy would never say it out loud, but part of the reason he hates these parties is it makes him miss O, Miller, and all his friends back east. In the nearly eight months he's lived here, he hasn't had much of a chance to meet many people, besides his roommates, Clarke, and his coworkers. So parties tend to wind up him being surrounded by Lexa's condescending law school friends, Anya's softball league, and Lincoln's book club. Standing in the apartment, surrounded by all these people he doesn't know (or like, frankly), bereft of his own friends, always leaves him feeling uncomfortably lonely and contemplative.

He blames those feelings and an uncharacteristic vulnerability for making him think it was a good idea to invite the woman he's been seeing tonight. Especially since it seems to have blown up in his face.

He stands off to the side, brooding a bit, as Echo converses easily with his roommates' friends. In the past, whenever he'd thought about bringing a date to one these parties, he'd always worried that the woman would take it as a sign that he was ready for commitment. Apparently he'd gone overboard in explaining to Echo that this didn't mean they were a couple or that he wanted anything more than casual, because she'd kept her distance all night, just giving him small enigmatic smiles whenever he caught her eye.

As he's weighing the risks of crossing the room for a beer and potentially being drawn into a conversation when Clarke walks in, looking like a breath of fresh air in her paint-splattered jeans and black UCSD t-shirt, her hair plaited into a golden crown. He smirks a little and can't stop the fond " _princess"_  he murmurs, even though she can't hear him.

She turns to him as though she did, however, and marches over, with only a quick wave to Lexa, who is debating something with a girl from her study group and sends her girlfriend a thin smile of acknowledgement.

"I'm in trouble," Clarke says as she comes to stand beside him, taking the bottle from his hand only to sigh when she finds it empty. "I booked a studio space off-campus and lost track of time." She looks at him then - really looks - and he can see her suppress a smile. "Bend down a little." She gives his arm a tug until he obeys.

"What? Do I have-" he starts, only to stop as she combs her fingers through his hair, starting at the roots and mussing it. "Hey!" he says, pulling back. "It took me a long time to get it neat and a lot of gel to for it to stay that way." He tries to straighten it himself, but when she just looks more amused, he knows he's just making it worse and gives up with a sigh.

"It looks better messy." She shrugs unapologetically, then grins at him. "It reflects who you-" but she's cut off when they're joined by Echo.

Who hooks an arm around his waist and leans into him with a sharp smile, before she turns to Clarke, offering her free hand. "Hi, I'm Echo, Bellamy's date."

"Oh." Clarke blinks and hesitates, then shakes the offered hand. "I'm Clarke. I, uh, I'm Lexa's girlfriend."

Bellamy can feel a bit of the tension leach out of Echo at that and mentally rolls his eyes. Apparently he hadn't made his earlier point if Echo thought she had reason to be jealous of him talking to another woman. He shakes it off. "Echo's a model," he tells Clarke, who sends him a droll look and he can all but read her mind -  _a model? In California? Groundbreaking_ \- and has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. But he presses on. "She works as a live model in some art classes. Clarke's an artist," he's quick to tell Echo, who turns to Clarke with new enthusiasm.

As the two women begin to talk, he excuses himself to fetch drinks, looking up as he opens the beers and catching Clarke glancing at him. She smiles when he meets her eye, then turns back to Echo.

He tells himself it's stupid that that small glance is the most welcome he's felt in his own home all night.

* * *

Clarke climbs out on the fire escape where he’s sitting, contemplating an unlit cigarette he's bummed off one of Lincoln's buddies, and she flicks his ear.

"Ow! What the hell was that for?" he cries, jerking his head away from her.

"Get rid of that," she orders, nodding at the cigarette. "Those things will kill you."

He sighs and tosses it to the ground, following its flight with a mournful look. "I wasn't going to smoke it." But it comes out a little sulkier than he intended. "I haven't had one since I moved out here."

She just hums and sits beside him, hugging her legs to her chest, and they stare out into the darkness of the city in companionable silence, until she stirs. "I like your girlfriend. She's very pretty," she says, voice low, even though there's no way anyone inside could hear them over the background music and conversation.

Bellamy barks out a surprised laugh. "She's  _not_ my girlfriend. We're just, I don't know, wasting time together." He catches the small smile she presses into her knees, but looks away to hide the sudden racing of his pulse, before he clears his throat. "I got a call from my sister. She's coming to visit soon."

"That's great!" He looks over at her to see her grinning at him, the light from the apartment haloing her. "I know you've missed her. And I'll finally get to meet her this time, right?"

"If you want," he answers with a shrug, inwardly cursing himself. Octavia knew him better than anyone - it would take her about 30 seconds to figure out this thing he had for Clarke as soon as she saw them together. "If we can, you know, keep her from spending all her time with Lincoln." He shakes his head in disbelief.

Clarke laughs quietly. "I think it's sweet," she says, shoving his arm. "I've never seen Lincoln so smitten before."

" _Smitten,_ " he mutters, taken aback, then turns to look at her fully. "Wait a minute - they're just friends. Are you telling me that you think Lincoln is  _interested_ in Octavia?!"

She stares at him for a long minute before she blinks. "Bellamy," she says, and her voice is quiet and calm and placating and it makes Bellamy just that much more anxious, "no one has a 'friend' that they treat with as much devotion as Lincoln shows Octavia. He goes out of his way to be available to her any time she needs him, they're always talking or texting or Skyping. He'd do anything for her; it just makes sense."

Bellamy stills as his heart pounds in his chest. He'd been an idiot not to see it before, especially when he himself was in a similar situation. And if Clarke could see it so easily with Lincoln, did that mean she noticed Bellamy's feelings as well? 

And what if she did? he wonders. If she had, it obviously hadn't made any difference to her; they were still friends. Just friends. It wouldn't really change anything, but Bellamy suddenly, desperately wanted to know if she knew. If he was half as pathetic in her eyes as he was in his own head. 

He doesn't think he'd be able to stand it if she saw him the way he saw himself.

"Hey." He looks up at her as she searches his face. "You're not going to do something gross, some stupid, misogynistic, big brother cliche, are you? Because Octavia is an adult and Lincoln does like her, but he also considers you a friend. I wouldn't have said anything if I'd known you hadn't been paying attention."

Shrugging, he slouches down a bit and kicks at the railing across from him, but not with any force. "I guess not. And it's not misogynistic - it's protective. I've taken care of Octavia my entire life, even before our mom died. I'm all she's ever had, and vice versa."

"But by protecting her, you're telling her that you don't trust her enough or respect her enough to think she could take care of herself." She arches a brow at him, but leans in to press her arm against his in commiseration. "And you should be happy for her to have someone else in her life. I'm sure she'd be happy for you."

She would, but Bellamy doesn't want to admit that. Instead he snorts. "You're making an awful lot of assumptions about a girl you've never even met."

"Well, I know you." Something soft in her tone makes him hold her stare. Her lashes flutter a bit and she continues in a breathier voice, "I can't imagine that a girl you practically raised would be that much different." She breaks eye contact to look forward again, dropping her head to his shoulder. "Do you guys look alike?"

"What?" he asks dumbly, still stuck on the way she'd just looked at him, then shakes himself out of it. "Uh, yeah, kinda. Here, I've got a picture." He fumbles for his phone before he swipes the screen and tries to find a picture that Octavia wouldn't kill him for showing someone she's never met. "Here we go," he says, handing Clarke his phone.

"Oh, she's not..." she begins in surprise, then falters.

"Brown?" Bellamy finishes with a smirk which turns into a genuine smile after he sees her sheepish expression. He shrugs. "We're pretty sure we have different biological fathers, but my mom would neither confirm nor deny that. Either way, there was never a dad in the picture."

"I can see the resemblance, though." She turns to face him, holding the phone up to his face. "It must be your mom that gave you those unfair cheekbones and jawline, the chin." She pulls the phone back to herself. "Her eyes are really light, which is an interesting contrast with your dark eyes in such a similar face. I'm going to have to draw you guys," she announces, like it's a given.

Bellamy sputters. "Now, wait, princess..."

She looks up from the phone in surprise. "What? It's not a big deal. I draw you all the time." As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she clearly regrets it as she winces and her eyes turn wary.

But he can't even work up the will to tease her. He's too shocked. "You do?"

He can see her struggle to stay casual. "Yeah, you have a really interesting face - the hard angles, the play of light and shadow, the freckles." He squirms a bit under her appraisal, which relaxes her into a grin. "You can look so intense sometimes when you're concentrating, but then you smile and it's..." He hears her breath stutter a bit, before she says quietly, "You have a really great smile."

There's a part of him that wants to play this light - that wants to give her an exaggerated, beaming smile and act smug and embarrass her - but he can't. Not as she scoots a little closer, pinching his chin a bit as she tilts his head down towards her, her eyes sweeping over his face intently. He feels like a piece of art being examined under gaze, but when she meets his eyes warmly, his heart stops in his chest.

"You've got the darkest eyes," she murmurs, the breath of her words brushing against his lips, as she strokes his eyebrow with a finger, then down around his eye to his cheekbone, then pulling down to trace down the side of his face to his jawline, which she cups in her hand. 

Bellamy is not even sure he's breathing at this point, as she holds his face so close to her own, staring deeply into his eyes.

Until, of course, some drunk kid on the street drops a glass bottle on the sidewalk, startling them into pulling back away from each other.

He stands and she follows after a beat, looking nearly as dazed as he feels. "I should-" he starts pointing at the party inside their window, the one he'd forgot all about, where her girlfriend and his... Echo are waiting, along with about 20 other people. 

He doesn't wait for her to respond, just climbs back into the apartment, hiding the shaking in his hands by stuffing them deep into his pockets and walking over to pretend to listen to Lincoln pontificating on the latest literary fiction gem.

Clarke waits a few minutes to follow him in and avoids catching his gaze the rest of the night.

Which is just as well, he tells himself. They've already played with fire enough.

But it doesn't stop his heart from sinking like a stone.

* * *

Bellamy collects empties from around the living room and waves Lincoln off when he tries to help. "Get some sleep, man," he tells his roommate, who has clearly had much more to drink than Bellamy has.

Lincoln wavers on this feet for a minute, then must decide the fight isn't worth it and heads back to his room with a quiet " _good night_."

Anya snores down the hall, no doubt having fallen into bed still in her dress and boots, while he can hear Lexa protesting being put to bed " _like a child_ ". He gloats a bit in the knowledge that he'll be the only roommate without a hangover tomorrow morning.

Lexa finally quiets as Bellamy ties off the garbage bag and he hears the bathroom door close, realizing it must be Clarke getting ready for bed herself. 

He knows he should go to bed, that there's no reason for him to linger out here.

He gets a fresh beer instead and stands in front of the window, staring out into the starless skyline above the city, wondering what the hell he's going to do next.

One thing is clear: he can't keep seeing Echo. It's not fair to her, even if she can just keep it casual, when he's so hung up on Clarke. His feelings aren't changing anytime soon - or at all, he fears - and something's seemed to change with Clarke, too. 

Something that makes his palms sweat and his heart race.

Something that gives him hope.

He hears bare feet padding on the floor and turns just in time to see Clarke walk out of the hallway. She stops short when she sees him, shifting a bit in spot in a way that shows she's just as nervous, as uncertain as him. That treacherous hope surges again. 

"Hey," he calls quietly, leaning back against the window frame and taking a slow pull from his beer. Then he notices the bag in her hand. "Not staying over?"

She shakes her head, pushing back a few wavy strands that have come loose from her braided crown. "No, I think I should go home." Her tone is subdued, her face grave even though it glows with a freshly-washed sheen. 

He nods and looks at the clock. "It's pretty late; are you sure you want to go out?" She gives him a look that reminds him of her speech about protecting Octavia and he huffs out a breath. "Fine, I trust and respect you enough to accept that you can look after yourself. But text me when you get home, so I can at least get some goddamn sleep."

A smile tugs at her lips as she nods. "I can do that." But she doesn't leave, just stands there staring at him from across the room, so he shrugs and finishes the beer and fits the empty into the tied-off garbage and moves to go to bed.

As he walks towards the hallway where she still stands, she stops him with a hand on his shoulder, stepping closer, murmuring his name. "I need-" she starts, her eyes staring up into his face, tracing over his cheeks, his nose, flitting between his eyes, before she lowers her gaze to his lips.

His mouth goes dry and he croaks, " _Clarke_ ," a split second before she cups his face in both hands and rises to her toes, pressing her mouth to his.

Instinct takes over as his eyes drop shut and he cradles the back of her head gently, the contact lighting up his senses like the Fourth of July. His lips part under the pressure of her kiss and she's moaning into his mouth, the sound making him light-headed.

Her fingers are carding through his hair for the second time that night, nails against his scalp, raising goosebumps on his arms as he practically purrs into her mouth. He's always imagined it would be like this - all heat and passion and an encompassing sense of home. Like two parts being fused into a single whole, the way he's never felt with anyone else, because it's always been her, even before he knew her.

She changes the angle of the kiss just the bit, and he goes up in flames, pulling her into him with an arm around her waist, feeling the burn in his lungs but not caring if he drops dead this instant, because he can't imagine giving his life for a more noble pursuit than kissing her.

When her hands fists in his hair and he hears a needy sob from the back of her throat, he pulls back just the slightest, panting, and as the oxygen rushes back to his brain, it all comes crashing down around him.

"Clarke," he grates out, fighting to keep his eyes open as she kisses across his collarbone, nipping at his skin a bit. "What are we doing? What about-"

She presses her hand over his mouth, lifting her palm only long enough to kiss him firmly, until she can tell he's not going to talk. "Don't say it," she begs. "Because as soon as you say it, it makes it all real and we have to deal with it." She kisses his chin, his bottom lip, the corner of his mouth, and Bellamy wants to be the kind of person that just lets her. Hell, if she'd been anyone else, he probably would.

But it's Clarke and he can't stand the idea of being a mistake to her.

He cups her face in his hands, pulling back to put some distance between her mouth and his face. Her blue eyes are nearly blown black, her mouth swollen, face pink in the dim light coming through the windows from the street. He's only ever wanted to be with her and he knows he's going to regret this, but he can't stop himself from saying, "This is real. It's real, Clarke. It always has been for me. But I can't do it this way, with Lexa between us." He drops his hands and takes a step back. "All of us deserve more."

She tips her head forward, nodding a bit, then looks up at him with eyes that are unreadable in the dim light. "I should go," is all she says, and Bellamy can only stand there as she slips her shoes on and walks out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day I will probably give up sneaking so much Octavia in my Bellarke stories and just write a Bell & O story, but for now, have this.
> 
> I struggled with this a bit and was anxious to put it up tonight, and therefore did not proofread. Please be kind.

Bellamy doesn't see Clarke the rest of that weekend.

Or the following week.

Or for an entire additional week following that.

He knows that she's been there - her sketchpad is on the kitchen table one day and then it's gone, he sees her favorite sweater in the coat closet, the supply of yogurt she keeps in their fridge steadily decreases - so it's more than obvious that she's avoiding him.

Maybe if he were smarter, he'd take this as a sign. But Bellamy needs to know, needs to hear it from her mouth that nothing can happen between the two of them.

So when Lexa asks him one Monday morning while she's busy texting at the kitchen table, "What time do you have class today?" he immediately starts forming a plan.

He takes a slow drink from his mug as he considers her question. "Nine," he lies. "Why?"

She hums and walks away, dismissing him. 

Bellamy huffs out a breath for show, then glances at the clock - he has 30 minutes to prepare for work and get out of the apartment if Lexa is going to believe his story.

He makes it by the skin of his teeth, hair still wet, hopping out the door as he struggles to put his shoe on, but he thinks it gives his story a veneer of truth.

He doesn't have long to wait outside the building's doorway before he sees Clarke walk up. "I knew you were avoiding me," he says as calmly as he can.

She jolts, one hand diving into her bag - for what, he'll never know - before she recognizes him. "Damn it, Bellamy!" she cries, socking him in the arm with a closed fist, rocking him back on his heels. "You scared the hell out of me."

"Sorry, but I didn't know how else to get you to talk to me." He rubs his arm and winces. "Or are we not even friends now?"

Clarke frowns a bit and glances up at the building, squinting against the mid-morning sun. "Can we talk about this another time?"

"I've been waiting to talk about it, but you're never around anymore. At least," he says with a wry smile, "not when I am."

"I just... I needed some time. To figure things out."

Bellamy nods. "Okay, that's fair, but you never even bothered to tell me _that._ It's been over two weeks of radio silence." He takes a shuffling step forward, close enough that she has to tip her head back to look at him. "Clarke, talk to me. Please."

She averts her gaze for a minute, her face taking on a mulish cast before she looks at him again. "Not right now."

He takes a step back, temper flaring. "Fine. Then you let me know what time would be best for you, princess." He starts to walk down the sidewalk, but the devil on his shoulder gets the best of him. He turns back to her a few feet down the sidewalk. "You know,  _you_ kissed  _me_. _You_ are the one in the relationship. And now I'm the bad guy?"

"Keep your voice down," she hisses, walking over to where he's stopped. "You're not the bad guy. I'm, I don't know, confused, I guess. Conflicted. Guilty."

"Yeah, well, imagine how I feel," he mutters, but she looks away like she didn't even hear him, shaking her head.

"The truth is..." She exhales slowly and licks her lips. "I didn't want to say anything, because I don't know what to say." She looks up at him in earnestness, her blue eyes pools of sincerity and sadness. "I don't know what changed. One day, you were just there, my friend, and the next day, it's like..." She clears her throat, ducking her head bashfully and looking up at him from beneath her lashes. "I  _saw_ you, saw something more there, in the way you looked at me, the way you listened and shared. And honestly?" Her mouth twists into a sad version of her normal small smile. "Seeing you with Echo made me afraid that I might lose that, lose you."

"Clarke." He wants to pull her into his arms, cup her face between his palms, press his forehead to hers, and let it all spill out. How much he loves her (more than he's loved anyone besides maybe his sister), how long he's loved her (longer than he'd care to admit), how long he's going to go on loving her (forever if she lets him).

But her face is grave when she tips her head back to look at him. "But it was wrong of me to act on it, when I'm with Lexa and you're seeing Echo. I mean, god, Bellamy!" she bursts out suddenly, her face lined with torment. "I was cheated on; I know how it feels to be on the other side of this. And I can't do that. I owe Lexa more than that. So you were right to stop it, the kiss, because it..." She sighs, a quiet quick exhale. "It was a mistake. It was _my_ mistake."

The word is a knife to the gut and the absolute last thing he wanted to hear.  _You knew better than to push_ , he tells himself.

It doesn't help.

"Wow," he says weakly with a humorless laugh. "Okay." He nods once and takes a big step back from her. "Okay."

"Bell." Her voice trembles and she takes a breath to calm it, then looks up at him with pleading eyes. "I don't want this to change things. You're one of my best friends and I- I need you in my life. I've lost so many people, I can't lose you, too. So please, please, tell me we can go back to how things were before. This doesn't have to change anything, unless we let it."

He glances away from her and clears his throat, but the knot that's built up doesn't budge. The need to escape is pressing in on him, before he does something demeaning like tear up or beg or try to change her mind, so he nods jerkily and rasps out a, "Yeah," that lights up her face with relief.

She steps closer and grasps his arm for a long minute, before walking past him into the building, the phantom touch lingering long after she's gone.

* * *

Things around the apartment go back to a facsimile of normal. Clarke starts showing up even when she knows he'll be home, but there's a noticeable strain in their friendship. They've been reduced to banal conversation about classes and weather and stupid TV shows, and Bellamy sometimes wonder if not having her in his life at all would be easier than this pathetic charade.

It's a relief when Octavia finally flies in for the weekend, greeting him at the airport with a big hug and a teary smile, ruffling his too-long hair with her fingers. 

"Oh, my god, Bell!" she says, pinching at his cheeks. His freckles, always a nuisance, stand out darker than they ever have, making her grin. "The California sun agrees with you."

He shrugs it off with a fond smile and tugs at the end of one of the many small braids woven in her hair. "Trying a new look?"

Batting his hand away, she nods her head to the side, waving at a girl with big thick braids, who waves back. "I made a friend on the plane."

"Of course you did." But it makes him grin as he takes her bag from her hand, laughing when she huffs at him.

"I can carry it myself, Bellamy."

"I know you  _can_ , but that doesn't mean you should. Brother's prerogative," he invokes, as he likes to do every so often, and she rolls her eyes at him, but plays along.

"Fine, you manly man. Carry my luggage. See if I care." She bumps her shoulder into his and they exchange grins. When they get out to the car, she looks around casually -  _too_ casually. "Just you?"

He makes a face as he stows the suitcase and walks around to the driver's side. "Well, Anya wanted to come, but she had class, so..." He laughs when she flips him off before they both climb in the car.

On the drive the apartment, he catches her smiling at him from the corner of his eye a few times while he's telling her about his graduate courses. "What?" he finally asks. "Do I have something on my face?"

"I just missed you," she confesses softly and it tugs at Bellamy's heart. For so long the two of them had only had each other and the separation hasn't been easy - for either of them.

"I missed you, too, O." He reaches over the middle console to squeeze her hand, then lets her launch into a complete run-down of what everyone at home is up to.

* * *

If being away from Octavia for months on end was bad, sharing her when he does have her is almost worse, Bellamy thinks as he begrudgingly stands back while Octavia and Lincoln hug and talk in voices soft enough that they don't carry.

Which is probably for the best. Standing here is uncomfortable enough - he doesn't know how he'd react listening to some guy murmur sweet nothings to his sister.

He's still not sure if it's better or worse that it's Lincoln, someone he knows and respects and even likes, on occasion.

When Octavia pulls back, her smile is so incandescent that it's hard to work up the outrage he'd felt when Clarke helped him figure it all out. Lincoln catches his eye and Bellamy just gives him a nod of acknowledgement, which Lincoln returns.

For Octavia, for her happiness, Bellamy can let this go. And it's in this spirit that he offers, "How about dinner? My treat."

"Really?!" O all but jumps for joy, squeezing his arm, then looks at him suspiciously, "Not just to the Dropship for frozen pizza either, right?"

He scoffs. "Don't pretend you're above frozen pizza. I remember freshman year, too, and that probably sounds like a feast to you right now. But no, a real sit-down dinner, at a real moderately-priced casual restaurant." He quirks a brow at her. "This is a limited-time offer, so I'd take it if I were you."

"Give me 10 minutes!" she says, racing back to his bedroom to her luggage and no doubt littering her clothes all over his nice, neat floor.

Bellamy looks at Lincoln evenly. "You were included in that invite, too, you know, if you want to go pretty up as well," he says with a smirk.

Despite the smart ass comment, Lincoln looks touched. "Thank you."

"Yeah, well." Bellamy rolls his shoulders and turns away, just in time to see the door knob turn and Clarke walk in.

She looks a little surprised as she pushes her sunglasses on top of her head. "Oh! Hi, guys. Is there a reason you're standing in the entry-" she begins, just as Octavia starts down the hallway back towards them.

"Done! And with two minutes to- Oh." Octavia jerks to a stop, staring at the new person by the doorway with wide green eyes.

"Clarke," Bellamy steps forward between them, "this is my sister Octavia. O, this is Clarke."

Clarke blinks at him in surprise, then steps forward with a small shake of her head and a smile. "Octavia, I'm so happy to finally meet you. Your brother has told me so much about you."

"Likewise," Octavia says, and Bellamy hopes he's the only one that hears the bite in her tone.

He drops his hand to Octavia's arm, giving her a surreptitious pinch that has her frowning at him.  _Be nice_ , he tries to convey through his look and she must still be able to read him pretty clearly, because she rolls her eyes and nods. 

Bellamy turns back to Clarke, who is watching them carefully, smile wiped clean from her face. "We were just, uh, going out to dinner. The three of us," he tells Clarke, who just arches a brow at him and looks a little proud when he nods. 

"Oh, okay, I'll just wait here." She steps further into the apartment and around them, waving a hand towards the couch. "For, uh, for Lexa to finish her study group."

There was a time, before the kiss, where Bellamy would have extended the invitation, but he feels uncomfortable doing it now. Like it means something more, something she's not ready for, so he keeps quiet.

Which makes it extra-shocking when Octavia pipes up, "You can come, too!" with false cheer.

Clarke shifts on her feet, looking from Octavia to Bellamy then back to Octavia, before she smiles wanly. "I'd like that."

* * *

Any fears that Bellamy had about his sister and the woman he's in love with (but not dating) being together turn out to be completely justified.

The car ride over - "It's more practical to take one car; after all, Clarke is coming back here anyway to be with Lexa. Isn't that right, Clarke?" Octavia had pointed out helpfully - is tense and awkward. Tense because Octavia had insisted on sitting in the back with Clarke and awkward because she also insisted on quizzing Clarke all about her relationship with Lexa - when did they meet, how did they start dating, how long have they been together - all things that sound reasonable in theory, but Bellamy knows his sister. 

She's not just curious, she's proving a point.

"O," he warns her, taking her arm and holding her back a step behind Lincoln and Clarke as they get ready to walk into the restaurant. "Lay off her a bit. For me. Let's just have a nice dinner."

Octavia stares at him, then nods reluctantly. "Fine. For you."

"Thank you." 

Octavia is as good as her word throughout most of dinner - she steers the conversation back to the people they know at home, her dorm roommate, teases Lincoln about his pick for his book club, and even asks Clarke civil questions about her art classes.

It's when the check comes that it all starts to fall to pieces. 

"How much do I owe you?" Clarke asks, reaching for the small wallet that she carries in lieu of a purse. 

Bellamy waves her off. "Don't worry about it. My treat. You missed that part of the invitation."

She scowls at him. "Which means it shouldn't extend to me. How much. Do I. Owe you?"

"Don't make me fight you, Griffin," he says, unable to keep the smirk from spreading across his face. It's been too long since things have been this at ease between them.

Her eyes glint silver in amused anticipation. "You wish you could take me, Blake," she murmurs, her low voice tugging at his gut and he wonders if she knows how true that statement is.

As they stare each other down, Octavia makes a disgusted noise from across the table, making them both break their gazes. "So Bellamy," she says loudly, "will I get to meet Echo while I'm out here?"

He clears his throat and shoots Lincoln a narrow stare - Bellamy knows for a fact that Octavia could've only heard that name from the guilty man across the table who won't meet his eyes. "Uh, no. We're not seeing each other anymore."

"You didn't tell me that," Clarke says in shock, and he can tells she regrets it the moment it falls from her lips.

But he can't resist getting a little dig in. "When would I have?" he snaps. When she just looks away, nodding sadly, he's struck by a wave of weariness, gravity pulling on his limbs, pressing down on his shoulders. He turns to his sister, who at least appears a tiny bit chagrined, and asks quietly, "Ready to leave?"

Back in the apartment, Clarke tells Octavia goodbye and then immediately sequesters herself in Lexa's bedroom. Bellamy can hear Lexa's demanding questions through the door, so he excuses himself to his bedroom to give Octavia and Lincoln a few minutes to say goodnight.

He's sitting on the bed, checking his notification on his phone, when Octavia comes in, closing the door behind her and practically floating to the bed, where she drapes herself next to him with a sigh. "I love California."

He grunts in acknowledgement before tossing the phone aside. "Sure it's not just the company?" he asks, raising his brows at her. "And by that, I mean me, not Tall, Tatted, and Silent out there."

She shoves his arm a bit. "The company's not so bad," she teases, sitting up. "I applied to UCSD and got in." He tenses beside her, mind spinning, and opens his mouth before she cuts him off. "I know it's more money, but I've already been approved for some scholarships and student loans -  _in my own name_ \- and I'm moving out here as soon I finish up this semester. Maybe we can find a place together?" she asks hopefully.

"Octavia," he groans, running a hand over his face and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Is this about Lincoln?"

"Not just about Lincoln. I miss you, Bell. I miss my family." She rests her head on his shoulder in a move she knows will melt his heart and it works, of course. How can he stay mad at her after that?

But he can feel that she's wary, holding too still beside him, and remembers a night on a fire escape and says, "Alright. I trust you to know what's best for yourself. You're old enough to make this call, and if this is what you want, then... Alright."

She pulls away from him in shock before smirking. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with Bellamy Blake? Super over-protective, control freak Bellamy Blake."

"Ha, ha. Very cute." But she keeps staring at him, so he shift uncomfortably. "I don't know, I was talking to Clarke one night and-"

"Clarke," Octavia says darkly, then turns slit eyes his way. "Did something happen between the two of you? Lincoln told me that things have been weird." Bellamy stayed quiet and stared ahead, until O knocks his elbow with hers. "C'mon, big brother, confession is good for the soul."

Bellamy maintains his silence for a long beat, before he breaks. "We kissed."

"Oh, my god, Bellamy!" She slaps at his arm once, twice, three times, as he tries to bat her hands away. "You kissed your roommate's girlfriend!"

"Shut up, O!" he grinds out, nodding towards the closed door - the one separating them from the hallway that connects to the aforementioned roommate's bedroom. "It wasn't like that."

She watches him carefully. "No, it wasn't, was it? Let me guess: she kissed you?" When he shrugs, she sighs and shakes her head, looking at him with pity. “Bell, you’re my brother and I love you, but I mean this from the bottom of my heart.” And she slaps him upside the head.

"Ow! What the hell, Octavia! Have you decided to pursue a major in physical violence?" He rubs a hand against the back of his scalp. "What do you have against Clarke?"

"You mean besides the fact that she kissed you while she's still dating your roommate? Gee, I don't know, Bell. What could it be?" She groans in frustration. "You know, Lincoln knew there was something going on when you kept defending her to Lexa when they fought, he knew that you were falling for her, and I called him crazy. But all I had to do was look at the two of you together and anyone can see it's true."

"Yeah, well. That doesn't mean that it's going anywhere." He swallows thickly and tries to work up a smile. The pitying look on her face tells him he failed horribly.

"Tell me everything," she says gently, relaxing back into his side, head nestled against his shoulder like she used to do as a little girl, and so he does, right up to that very night.

"So that's your plan? Sit back and wait for her to come to you?" She looks up at him skeptically.

"I'm not going to push her into admitting something when she's not ready."

"Okay," she says, "but there are a lot of other choices in between. You can't put your life on hold waiting for her to have some big epiphany, Bell. You deserve to be happy, with Clarke, without Clarke, whatever that means. But stop waiting for a day that might never come." She shakes her head sadly. "Maybe me moving here will have an extra benefit of finally getting you out of this situation."

He stays quiet for a beat, then admits, "I'm afraid that if I go, if I don't see her every day, she'll forget I'm even an option."

"Bellamy," Octavia matches his solemn tone, turning to face him, "you deserve more than being someone's fall-back option. If she isn't actively trying to be with you now, staying in her orbit, seeing her every day, isn't going to change her mind; it's only going to hurt you in the long run."

* * *

Saying goodbye to Octavia that Sunday afternoon is bittersweet, but knowing that she'll be back in a few weeks eases the ache a bit.

He'd tried to put all of the heavy stuff - O's move to California, possibly moving out, Clarke - out of his mind for the few days he had with his sister, but now that she's gone, it comes rushing back.

It's weighing on his mind so heavily that when he walks into the apartment, he doesn't hear it - not at first.

He doesn't see the shirts discarded on the living room floor, the bra by the hallway.

It's as he's unlacing his boots that it finally sinks in.

Dread rises from his stomach in a rush as he hears the raspy moan, the panting, the deep laugh that turns into a hissed curse.

The blood rushes from his head as he gains his feet, moving slowly towards the hallway, feeling drunk as he staggers, trying to block out the sounds, the knowledge, of what's going on behind that door.

He makes it to his doorway just as one opens behind him and he moves subconsciously, turning to confirm all his worst fears.

Seeing her like this – blonde hair curling with sweat around her face, cheeks rosy, lips swollen, skin glowing – is a blow to the gut, the air rushing out of him in a painful burst. A hot ball of emotion hitches in his throat and he controls the bile that wants to rise with a slow inhale through his nose, eyes stinging.

Clarke stops short when she sees him, the pink of her face turning white. “Bellamy,” she manages steadily, but he can see that she’s not unaffected, in the flutter of her lashes, the tremble of her lips just before they're pressed into a thin line.

But he can’t speak, not without knowing what might come out of his mouth, so he settles for nodding to himself and steps into his room, closing the door on the sight of her.

Octavia is right; there’s nothing for him here except heartbreak.

It’s time to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry


	6. Chapter 6

He tells his roommates casually - mentions it in passing to Anya as he's walking out and she's coming in, brings it up while he and Lincoln are watching a baseball game, drops it into a conversation about the internet bill with Lexa. They're not a close, emotional group so it's no surprise that none of them shows too much of a reaction. 

His coworkers, who will not be affected  _at all_ , are another story.

"You're doing what?" Monty asks, freezing with a bar rag in his hand as they prepare for Friday happy hour. "Why?"

Bellamy shrugs and concentrates on slicing up limes. "Octavia is transferring to UCSD. She'll be moving out here in a few weeks, after the end of the semester."

"What?! That's amazing!" Monty grins widely, but goes back to wiping down the bar. "So things are working out between her and Lincoln, I take it?"

Bellamy pulls back his hand just in time to avoid slicing his finger. "How do you- You know what, I don't even want to know how you know about that, do I?" 

Monty just winks unrepetantly and starts lining up a reserve of shot glasses, while Bellamy rolls his eyes and turns back to his limes. 

The bar is mostly empty at this time of day and the quiet gives Bellamy a chance to zone out and gear up his mind for a night of forcing smiles and being charming for tips. Unfortunately it also gives him too much time to worry about Octavia's move, his own classes, trying to find a place, and the small matter of unrequited love. Unbidden, her image fills his head as he'd last seen her, coming out of Lexa's room in her post-coital glow, and he winces at the pang in his chest before pushing it all down. 

He can't wait for the clock to hit 5 and the crowd to begin rushing in; he needs the distraction desperately.

The door to the bar opens but it isn't until Monty calls out a cheerful, "Clarke!" that Bellamy looks up.

Clarke darts a loaded glance his way before ambling up to the bar before Monty and greeting him.

"I haven't seen you in here in a while," Monty says, pulling out a fresh glass for her, before she waves him off.

"No drink - I'm just here to talk to Bellamy. Privately." She turns and locks her eyes on him, making him realize he's been staring since she walked in. "Got a minute?" 

Bellamy shifts on his feet uneasily. "It's not really a good time - we're about to get slammed and need to finish prepping."

She slumps down on the stool a bit at his rejection, although her jaw sets stubbornly. "It's not busy right now, though, and it won't take long. Monty can cover for you, right?" she presses, glancing over towards the man in question.

Bellamy does the same, sending his coworker a beseeching stare that Monty meets evenly. His dark eyes seem to soften with a bit of sympathy, but he still answers, "Right, it's not a problem. You two go talk."

Clarke smiles her thanks and starts to walk towards the door, not even waiting to make sure Bellamy follows.

He glares at Monty in betrayal, who pretends to be engrossed in the order of the coed who has just approached the bar.

Moving like a condemned man, Bellamy follows Clarke outside, blinking against the bright late afternoon sun. She's standing near the edge of the building, so he moves that way, leaning against the warm brick and folding his arms. "Alright, talk," he says gruffly.

She sends him an unintimidated stare, the same one that used to infuriate him when they first met even while gaining his reluctant respect. "Why are you moving?" she asks without preamble.

He looks down at his crossed arms, avoiding her eyes. "Octavia's moving out here after the semester. We're going to get a place for the two of us."

Stepping forward into his personal space, she gazes up at him. "And that's the only reason? Because I haven't seen you all week and then I find out you're moving from Lexa, instead of you telling me, and..." She sighs quietly. "And I didn't want anything to change but now it's all changing anyway."

Tipping his head back against the wall, he closes his eyes and swallows sharply. "What do you want me to say, Clarke?"

"I want you to say that I haven't screwed everything up, that we're still friends, that I haven't lost you." She takes a stuttering breath that has him looking down in concern.

He smiles grimly. "I can't say any of that. I need to go back in," he says, rolling the tension from his shoulders.

"Wait." She grabs his arm as he tries to slide past. "Bellamy, wait a minute."

"I've been waiting!" He shakes her hand off his arm and steps back towards the door. "Waiting around for you is all I do anymore, and I can't live like that. I can't...." He pauses as a knot builds in his throat, Octavia's words coming out of him in a broken voice, "I can't put my life on hold waiting for a day that might never come."  

Anger kindles in her eyes. "Oh, so what? Because I won't sleep with you, we can't be friends?!" 

"Is that really what you think of me?" he shouts, stung. "That everything I've done, everything we've been through, was all for sex? I'm in love with you, Clarke, and every time I see you with Lexa, it breaks my fucking heart."  _  
_

She rocks back on her heels and stares at him, lips parted in surprise, before she clears her throat and pushes a few strands of hair behind her ear. "You... you're in love with me?"

Bellamy steps back and rubs a weary hand over his face. "Yeah," he says with slow nod. "I am. I've been in love with you for the better part of a year. For most of that time, I thought I didn't have a shot in hell. That was almost easier. I was resigned to being your friend, to pining away, as long as I could have you in my life. But then you kissed me and gave me hope that you might feel the same way, but it's clear you don't or can't or... whatever." He shakes his head. "It broke my heart when you kissed me and called it a mistake. It breaks my heart every time I see you. And that's why I'm leaving."

"Bellamy," she murmurs, her eyes a bright blue as she stares at him, but she doesn't say anything more.

"I don't know," he says, looking away. "Maybe someday, a few months from now, maybe things can go back to the way they were. Maybe I can make it stop, and then we can try being friends again. But I can't do it now. I need time and I need space. And I hope you can respect that." When she says nothing, just stares back at him in silence, he blows out a breath, then lets out an embarrassed laugh. "Okay, now that I have completely humiliated myself, I need to go back in. I'll, uh, I'll see you around, Clarke."

He glances at her on his way back in, hoping against hope that she'll stop him, throw her arms around him, tell him she loves him too,  _anything_  other than stare at him with that blank look on her face.

She still staring when the door closes behind him.

* * *

His shift passes in a blur while his mind replays the conversation, the look on her face, her exact words. As he and Monty clean up the bar and help the kitchen staff pack up, the rest of the group joking around tiredly, he keeps to himself. 

"You alright, man?" Monty asks as he shuts down the lights under the bar and Bellamy gives him a feeble smile.

"Not really," he admits, "but what doesn't kill me, right?"

Monty laughs a bit as he leans against the door, pushing it open behind him. "Glad to see you're putting that philosophy minor to good use. I'll see you later, Bell!" 

Bellamy waves him off and does the last round to make sure everything's in order before he closes up. He steps out into the alley behind the bar, locking the door behind him, and turns towards home in the darkness. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, he sees a figure standing there, silhouetted by the streetlights - a figure he'd know anywhere. "Clarke, what are you doing out here? It's late."

She turns towards his voice, hugging her arms to herself, and takes a step forward then comes to a fumbling stop. "Did you mean it?"

He feels the tug of his wayward self-preservation instinct, the one that wants to play dumb, but he's tired of these games, of pretending. "Of course," he says instead, achingly honest.

She closes the distance between them and that gives him the chance to see the streaks down her cheeks, catching off the light, and guilt swamps him. No matter what she's done or not done to cause him pain, he hates knowing he's caused hers. All he's wanted for months was to have a chance to make her happy, but they can't quite stop making each other miserable instead. "Clarke," he murmurs, using his thumb to brush the moisture from her face now that she's close enough.

Shaking her head, she brings both hands up to hold his wrist, leaning her cheek into his palm and closing her eyes, swallowing hard. "I think..." she begins brokenly and he soothes her with a stroke of his thumb against the corner of her mouth, tracing over the little beauty mark that's driven him to distraction more than once. Her eyelashes flutter up, lips lifting in a shaky smile, her face open and light. "I think I love you, too."

His breath rushes out of him and he laughs a bit in surprise, leaning his forehead against hers. "Wow," he whispers as joy surges in his chest, his heart racing. "I was not expecting that."

She laughs, too, cupping his shoulder in her palm and flexing her fingers against him. "Neither was I." As he leans forward to press their lips together, she presses on his shoulder. "Wait, Bellamy."

He straightens in confusion. "... Okay."

"I'm sorry," she soothes, running her finger along his clavicle, up along his throat, to cup the back of his neck in her hand. "It's just... if we're going to do this right, I need to- I need to talk to Lexa first. I'm not going to mess this up again."

The tension rolls out of him then as he nods. "Okay. So... we wait."

"You're okay with that?" she asks in concern even as her fingers toy with the curls at the nape of his neck.

"Clarke, as long as I know that we can be together in the end, I can endure anything."

With a blinding smile, she wraps her arms around him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "This isn't over," she says softly.

And Bellamy wraps her up in his arms, content in the knowledge that whatever this is, it's just beginning.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, i _suck_. sorry for the long wait before posting this chapter - real life has been kicking my ass
> 
> but anyway, here we (finally) are, at the end. thanks to all of you for your support, comments, kudos, likes, and reblogs!

When Bellamy told Clarke he'd wait for her, he hadn't actually expected her to drag it out as long as possible. And yet, he thinks as he walks into his apartment nearly a week after their shared confessions, she's still with Lexa (even if it is just in name) and he's still waiting for her.

As a distraction, he's thrown himself into finishing up the semester strong and searching for new living arrangements, anything to keep his mind off her.

But nothing quite stops the thoughts that haunt him as he's tossing and turning at night.

_She changed her mind. How could you ever think that you'd be enough for her?_

_It was a heat-of-the-moment decision on her end and now she doesn't know how to back out of it gracefully._

_Did you honestly think she was serious about it? About you?_

_You're a_ joke _._

Cursing, he rolls over, punches his pillow flat, and buries his face in his hands, scrubbing his skin until it stings.

As he looks up, the light filtering in through his window glints off the screen of his phone and his fingers ache to pick it up - call her, text her, fucking  _do something_ that will make it all end, even if it is just to find out that all his greatest fears have come true.

He settles on a text and spends an inordinate amount of time deciding on what to put in the message, thumb hovering over the Send key until he finally closes his eyes and just presses it.

_did you change your mind?_

Bellamy throws himself back against the bed, crossing his arms over his eyes and trying not to count the seconds before she replies.

Luckily he doesn't have long to wait as his phone chimes with an incoming message.

 _of course not_ , it reads and he can almost hear the surprised hurt in her voice.

Just as he's typing out a reply, a second message comes through.

_her last exam is thursday. i'll tell her after_

He groans at the idea of waiting two more days, but compared to his previous fears, it's not as hard.

 _ok_ , he types out and hits send, then hesitates and can't quite stop himself from sending,  _i love you._  

The little "..." showing that she's replying makes his stomach tense in apprehension, until her reply comes through:

_i love you too x_

* * *

Wednesday afternoon, Bellamy hits paydirt in his apartment hunt: it's relatively close to campus and the Dropship, it has 2 bedrooms, and it's within his price range. By this point, that's enough of a selling point for him to sign the lease right away.

The fact that Octavia loves the pictures he sends her is just icing.

It's nearing the end of the month anyway, so Bellamy doesn't see any reason to drag out the moving process longer than necessary. After his final class on Thursday, he stops for some boxes at work that he's been setting aside since deciding to move and heads home, nervous and excited and so  _very_ ready for the next chapter of his life to begin.

As soon as he walks through the door, it's pretty apparent that Clarke is busy ending the current chapter of her life in the other room. He sets the boxes down quietly, trying not to alert either woman to his presence. The last thing he wants is for this conversation to be put off any longer.

Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he drops to the couch, toeing his shoes off, and eavesdropping without a modicum of shame.

Bellamy thinks about the fact that this will be the very last time he has to listen to Clarke arguing with Lexa. He smiles even as he winces when he realizes that the next time Clarke argues with someone about their relationship, it will be  _him_ she's arguing with. 

"Is there someone else?" Lexa asks, her voice strained, catching his attention, and Bellamy winces in sympathy even as he compels Clarke telepathically  _Lie lie lie lie lie._

"Yes," Clarke admits, honest as ever, and Bellamy is torn by equal parts dread and joy. She continues in a low tone, "But nothing's happened, not really. Not while you and I are still together."

Lexa laughs bitterly. "Enough that you're  _leaving me_ for them, though, right?"

"Lexa," Clarke says on a weary sigh. "This - us - we haven't worked for a long time. All the fights, me falling for someone else - they're symptoms of a larger problem."

"You  _falling_ for someone?" Lexa's voice is incredulous, as is her bark of laughter. "You're in love with this person? How?! Everything I have, every part of me, is so filled with love for you, there's no room for anything else. And now you're telling me that it was never the same for you? I dreamed of marrying you, Clarke, of having you by my side as I rose up, as we rose up together, through the ranks. Of you being my first lady when I become governor, maybe even president, and now you're telling me that's just  _over_. Just like that."

The silence following her impassioned speech rings throughout the apartment and Bellamy takes a shaky breath, his pulse racing as dread fills him. What does he have to offer Clarke that's on par with that? With him, she'll never have status, she'll never have power. She'll just have him. He closes his eyes and hopes that she sees it as a much better deal than what he fears it is.

"Saying 'just like that' implies that this is a surprise." Clarke's tone is more subdued, but doesn't lack any of her typical bluntness. "We both knew that this was coming. Your vision of the future - I never wanted any of that. I _grew up_ with that and hated it; you've always known that. But you didn't care, because it didn't match what you wanted." She's quiet for a long beat and, when she finally continues, her voice throbs with so much pain that Bellamy's arms ache to hold her. "And that's why I can't stay with you, why it would never work out in the long run. I can't fade back into the woodwork and let my life revolve around you; I  _won't_ do it. But the fact that you would've let me, that you would've preferred it, tells me everything I need to know about our relationship."

Bellamy exhales in relief while he mentally catalogs all of these revelations. Clarke had only mentioned her childhood in passing, enough that he knew she came from a pretty privileged background and the tension between her and her mother. He's determined to learn more about her past and to learn from Lexa's mistakes as well.

The rest of their conversation is muffled by the closed door and distance separating them from him, but Bellamy stays alert until he hears the door opening.

Lexa comes out first, glancing his way with an embarrassed frown, but he only has eyes for Clarke behind her. She looks lighter somehow, like a burden has been lifted, and Bellamy feels the last of his tension drain away.

This is really happening. He and Clarke are going to be together, finally.

As Clarke moves to leave, she catches his eye and gives him a small, tired smile. He tries to keeps his face impassive, but there must be something - some upturn of his lips, a softening of his eyes - because Lexa doesn't miss a beat.

A strangled noise bubbles up from her. "It's  _Bellamy_?!" she asks incredulously, following it with a sharp laugh. "Of course it is. Of course it's my _own fucking roommate_." Her voice doesn't get louder, just intensifies, which Bellamy dimly notes will make her an incredibly effective lawyer. "It's all been happening, right here, under my nose, and I didn't see it." She shakes her head, face falling into weary lines as she seems to grow smaller before their eyes. "I didn't see a lot of things."

Bellamy sends a panicked look over to Clarke, not knowing how to handle Lexa in a state like this, but she warns him off with a small jerk of her head that says _Don't open your mouth; it'll only make it worse_. He presses his mouth into a grim line and nods at her.

"Lexa," she soothes, placing a hand on Lexa's shoulder. "I didn't want you to find out like this."

"Or at all, I'm sure." Lexa jerks away from Clarke's hand, face twisting in a facsimile of a smile. "I always knew you cared for him, more than what was appropriate. And of course, he followed you around like a pathetic puppy. But I never knew, never suspected, it would come to this." She turns a fierce look on Bellamy that has him sinking back against the couch. "In my own home."

Bellamy opens his mouth - either to defend himself or Clarke, he isn't sure - but shuts it again when Clarke makes a sharp motion behind Lexa's back.

"Stop," Clarke orders in her most no-nonsense tone, her eyes flashing with anger. "We discussed this - Bellamy was not, is not, and never will be the real issue. But yes, it happened  _in your own home_ because Bellamy was here for me, shared his life with me, accepted me for who I was and not some grand ideal that I have to live up to."

Lexa gapes at Clarke for a moment, looking as if she'd just been slapped, before her jaw firms and she sends Bellamy a furious glare. "This conversation isn't over," she promises before stomping out of the apartment without a backward glance.

Clarke slumps forward a bit, as if the string holding her up had just been cut, and Bellamy hastens to his feet. "That could've gone better," she says with a wry smile as he wraps his arms around her, letting her rest her head against his chest.

He hums in agreement, running a hand down the long fall of her hair. "You know, just in case she tries to kill me in my sleep tonight, I've always loved you." He grins at her when she pulls back and makes a face at him.

"She might want to kill you," she concedes, pressing her palms flat against the small of his back. "But she'll probably just settle for passive aggressiveness and/or ignoring you. After all, it'd be hard to become president with literal skeletons in her closet."

He snorts at her joke. "Was she serious about that? She wants to be president one day?"

Clarke hums and tucks her body closer to his, breasts pressing up flush against his torso in an enticing, completely distracting manner. "She probably will be, too."

"That's a terrifying thought." He rests his forehead against hers, feeling the displaced air as her lashes flutter down. "I'm going to work so hard to make sure you never regret this, choosing me over the prospect of that kind of future."

"Bellamy, I wasn't lying when I told her I never wanted that future." She pulls her head back and cups his face in her hands so he meets her serious gaze. "I want you and whatever future we decide to have - together -  that builds on both of our dreams."

Hearing those words - future, together - come out of her mouth sends his pulse racing and he can't stop himself from cementing the promise of that statement with a slow kiss.

The way she wraps her arms around his neck tells him she doesn't object.

* * *

Lexa does not, as it turns out, kill him in his sleep.

The end of the month comes quicker than he'd anticipated and Bellamy is rushing to throw the last of his crap into boxes as Monty and some of their other coworkers arrive to help him move. Even though logistically he's not quite ready for this day, mentally he more than is.

Now that Clarke and Lexa are officially through, Clarke feels weird about coming over to his place, understandably. But he feels nearly as weird going to hers. Where Raven is. Raven, as in one-night-stand-somehow-turned-permanent-part-of-his-life Raven. 

So any and all interaction and progress in his and Clarke's relationship has regrettably taken place in public.

Which is for the best. Or so Clarke tells him. "We don't want to jump into this right out of the gate, do we?" she'd asked him one night, but the question comes out a little more unsure than she was probably going for. Especially considering she'd been sitting in his lap in his car right outside her building, grinding down on him while they did their best to see how long they could go without oxygen. Bellamy had panted out a groan against her neck.

He catches himself frozen in place now, thinking back to that night with a stupid grin on his face, and shakes himself out of it just as Lincoln walks through the door. "Monty is here with the truck. What do you want taken down first?"

Piece by piece they carry down pieces of his first ten months in California. It doesn't take long - Bellamy's never been one for a lot of material possessions - before they're done and Bellamy is ready to move forward.

He doesn't need to say goodbye to Lincoln because he knows very well that they'll be seeing plenty of one another once Octavia arrives in town.

Anya is working today, but she'd made a point to toss him a casual, "See you around, Blake," before leaving that morning.

So there's only Lexa left.

He knocks on her open doorway and shuffles his feet when she just glares at him. "I'm heading out. I'll give Lincoln my key." She grunts at him and returns her interest to her phone. He feels like he needs to say something - apologize or...  _something_ , but inspiration fails him, so he takes a step back instead.

"Bellamy." He turns and Lexa meets his gaze, face implacable, staring at him for a tense moment. "Don't take her for granted," she says, voice taut and he sees the unspoken  _like I did_ in her eyes. 

Surprised, Bellamy gives her a nod and walks away without another word.

* * *

He'd like to say that he and Clarke christened his new apartment that very night, but, well, he's spent the day packing, schlepping, and assembling and is only human. 

Regardless of his shortcomings, Clarke still comes over and makes him groan and quiver in a different way as she sits astride his hips and massages the kinks out of his back and shoulders.

"If I didn't love you already, this would seal the deal," he tells her with a smile when she's finished and rolls onto the bed next to him. She smiles in a bemused way that makes him ask, "What?"

"You like to say that, don't you? That you love me?" He'd almost call her look now coy but it's a touch too self-conscious for that.

Rolling over to his side and propping his head up in one hand, he uses the other to brush her hair back from her cheek, letting his thumb brush against her soft skin. "I didn't know if I'd ever get the chance, so I'm taking every opportunity that I can before you change your mind." And it's only half a joke and he can see the awareness of that fact all over her expression.

She sighs and turns her face into his hand, kissing the pad of his thumb. "I can tell you until I'm blue in the face that I'm not going to change my mind, but well, you're not going to believe it until I prove it, are you?"

"Clarke," he begins to protest, but she just quiets him with a small smile.

"I'm going to work hard to make sure you never regret falling in love with me," she paraphrases the words he said to her only a few days ago, barely finishing the thought before he's hungrily covering her mouth with his own.

Later in life, when he looks back on that night, on that time in their lives, he always laughs a little bit at their foresight, because it is work - _damn_ hard work - sometimes to keep it together.

But it's the work of a lifetime and he never would've had it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to come talk to me on [tumblr](http://itsactuallycorrine.tumblr.com)


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